Today, I walk down the same shore
Of beach 'revival'
They say,
Pick a stone
And you'd come again,
They said the same before.
Out of the shiny, shimmering, crystalline ones,
I chose the darkest, small and round piece of rock.
One mistook it for a darkened egg,
While others declared it a marble.
It's a stone,
Simply my way back to the beach,
Where my transient legs once laid bare
And the grains of sand
pricked against my sole.
Where once my love and I walked hand in hand,
his smile reaching my soul.
Those were yesteryears,
We were young, bold and shy.
His shirt button up till his tie.
We promised to build a house
Along the seaside
Hearing the rhymes of dancing waters.
Indeed I'm back again,
To return the nature its nature,
Giving a last look at the stone
That held him and I close.
I close my eyes
And smile with grief,
I feel his hand touch mine,
I let the stone fall off my fist.
His form disappears in thin air.
My intention is fulfilled.
I've let the waves
Wash away the mortal existence of us.
Now remain only in the faded memories
Of the revival beach.
Open for interpretation.
